It was the day before my sixth birthday. I was going to be staying the night at my favorite aunt and uncle’s house while my parents got the house ready. For most of the day we were out; I played at the park for awhile and ate ice cream. I had a blast. When we got home from the busy day is where the story starts.
My Aunt was inside making dinner while I played catch out in the backyard with my uncle, laughing when their dog barked at us. A few minutes in, and my uncle accidentally threw the ball into the woods.
“I’ll get it!” I yelled, and took off.
I don’t remember exactly what happened in the woods, but I do remember finding the ball, and then turning around to find I had no idea how to get back out. After that, my memory gets fuzzier, but this is what I was told happened…
“Isabella!” My uncle yelled when he saw me, looking half scared and half relieved. “You were in there for ten minutes! What happened!?”
I handed him the ball and said with a grin. “I got lost, and I was scared, but then Mr. S helped me find my way out!”
“Mr. S?” My uncle made a face as he looked down at me. None of the neighbors called themselves that, in fact, I knew all of the neighbors.
I smiled back and nodded. “Yep!”
“Dinner time!” My aunt called out the back door before he could ask me anything else.
At the table, once we started eating, my aunt spoke up. Apparently, she had heard me out in the backyard. “Who’s Mr. S? I’d like to thank him for helping you.”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. He was out in the woods.”
“Can you tell us what he looked like?” My uncle asked.
I looked at them and said, completely serious and nonchalant. “He was really tall and didn’t have a face.”
“That’s nice.” My aunt just laughed, assuming I was talking about an imaginary friend of some sort.
Fast forward to two years ago, I was seventeen years old, and with my aunt again. She was staying with us for a few weeks, looking for a new house. I was on my couch, playing Slender: The Arrival on my laptop. She walked over and asked what I was doing then froze.
“What is it?” I asked, giving her a confused look.
She pointed at the screen and said. “That thing… What’s it called?”
“Slenderman,” I said, “Why?”
My aunt just asked me if I remembered the day before my sixth birthday. I nodded and told her I remembered some of it. She proceeded to tell me about how I said “Mr. S” helped me find my way out of the woods, and how the description I gave of him matched The Slenderman’s.
I wouldn’t have known anything about creepypasta at that age, so that really freaked me out.